The written word,

So beautiful, and so unkind.

Brought to me by simple books at a tender age.

Writing was inevitable.

I learned to read to get away,

I learned to write to explain away.

I can tell my pain, and joy, on simple paper.

Simple and yet so strong.

The written word holds mystery.

I never know what I'm going to write next.

I let the words take me where they want to go,

And I take joy in the tale told.

Poetry is beautiful,

It sings to the heart.

Words bring out joy, and sorrow, and can make one cry.

Why not write?

A joy so strong,

Simple writing.

A simple Poem,

To explain why I love it so.

A poem isn't rhyme and rhythm.

It's joy, and words.

To wash away the pain.

To forget the sorrow.